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by cottonpadenthusiast



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt Draco Malfoy, Light Angst, M/M, Muggle library, Pining Draco Malfoy, PoC Harry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-12
Updated: 2018-06-12
Packaged: 2019-05-21 12:41:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14915576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cottonpadenthusiast/pseuds/cottonpadenthusiast
Summary: Draco was in trouble. Big trouble. The Daily Prophet has just outed him to the whole of wizarding society and that is bad enough as it is. But when Harry Potter shows up at Draco's favourite library, things take an unexpected turn...





	Home

The tension in Draco’s shoulders finally seeped away, as the smell of worn books and wood filled his nostrils. Thank Merlin for Muggle llibraries,he thought, squeezing himself deeper into the old leather chair. Today had been a Bad Day. One of the worst in a while actually, and it wasn’t as if Draco’s daily life was all that great either. He had decided to venture out for food after he had realised that half a Chocolate Frog and a can of Butterbeer was the only food left in his two-bedroom apartment in London. Draco hadn’t left his house in four days, knowing that outside he would be met with hexes and curses and hatred, nothing unusual for Draco Malfoy. But this time he knew it would be worse. The Daily Prophet had published an image of a very drunk Draco making out behind a club with someone who was very much a man. And put on the front page. And used the headline, “EX-DEATH EATER, NOW ASS-EATER “. How imaginative.

It wasn’t as if Draco was trying to hide his sexuality, he just wanted to tell Mother before every wizard and witch across the country knew he was gay. She had been extremely understanding of course, and Draco hated to admit the number of tears he had shed when she told him she still loved him, no matter whom he loved. If Father hadn’t died a year earlier the situation might have been slightly different, but Draco refused to think about that. Aside from the immense relief of his mother’s approval, Draco now knew that he was even more vulnerable to abuse. The abuse that he was met with immediately after entering Diagon Alley that day. Men spat at his feet, mothers steered their children away from him and not only was he now a “murderous bastard”, but a “disgusting faggot”. He didn’t even reach the shop before someone had punched him in the face; his left cheek was now a gruesome shade of purple due to the blow. Draco was used to guilt and shame and regret, but never before had he been punished for doing the only good thing in the world; loving someone.

Draco brought his thoughts back to the book he was holding in his pale hands. A Picture of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde. It was in pristine condition (Draco hated bent spines and tattered covers) and he was over halfway through. His upbringing had prevented Draco from ever reading Muggle literature, but on a particularly stormy day a few months ago, he had run into this Muggle library, seeking shelter from the rain, but what he found was more than just a place to stay dry. This library had turned into Draco’s safe place, almost a second home. He was a nobody in here, not a criminal, or a Death Eater, just another reader, except with a slightly eccentric taste in fashion. Draco visited this library twice a week, and Marge, the elderly librarian, who always smelt of roses and rich tea biscuits, now even kept books for Draco that she thought he would like. She had recommended this particular book to Draco while providing information on Wilde’s background and “preference of men”. Draco was already enchanted with the story, while relating almost a little too much to Dorian’s wish to remain young and sinless. But Draco already had the scars. Draco wasn’t given a choice. It was too late for him.

Draco was just learning of Dorian’s desire to sell his soul when a mop of black unruly hair floated by in the corner of his eye. No. No, it couldn’t be. No way in hell. But as Draco jerked his head up to search for the blob of black between the shelves of paperbacks, piercing emerald eyes caught grey ones. You have got to be kidding me, Draco thought, as Harry Potter, the Saviour of Wizarding World, sauntered over to Draco.

Potter was wearing Muggle jeans and a white top that accentuated his broad shoulders and contrasted with his dark skin. _Bloody Potter_ , Draco thought, tearing his eyes away from Potter’s abs. Draco swiftly set the book down and straightened himself up. Whatever insults Potter wanted to throw at him, Draco would be ready. He didn’t want to deal with Potter’s petty nonsense, today of all days. Potter finally reached Draco, looming over him with a wicked grin on his face.

“Hello, Malfoy.”

Draco glared. “What do you want, Potter?”

“Well, I was just wondering what the hell you are doing in a Muggle library,” Potter replied, his voice full of amusement.

“I could ask you the same thing. I thought only read newspaper clippings retelling your remarkable acts of heroism,” Draco retorted. He was not going to be a source of entertainment for Potter’s sick humour.

Potter snorted. “I know it may seem surprising, but I actually do enjoy books other than textbooks and biographies about my life. I was more confused about the fact that Draco Malfoy is sitting curled up in a corner of a _Muggle_ library, reading a _Muggle_ book.”

“People change, Potter,” Draco replied, his chin raised indignantly.

“I know,” Potter murmured softly. The gentleness made Draco look, _really_ look, into the scarred face. The last Potter had used that voice with him, which made Draco feel warm and fuzzy inside, was over a year ago. Potter had run up to him at the start of eighth year, his breath ragged, and thanked him for not identifying him that day in the Manor. Potter’s soft, “thank you” had been the first time Draco had felt appreciated in a long time. Those two words, from that one person, often provided Draco with a source of comfort during the dark times of that year.

Potter must have noticed the foreign look on Draco’s face as he bent over to see what book Draco was reading, snapping the blonde back to reality.

“The Picture of Dorian Gray, Oscar Wilde?” Potter’s voice was questioning but there was a hint something Draco couldn’t quite catch.

“Yes… It is a highly enjoyable read. Wilde’s wit and humour really are-” Draco stopped. _Oh shit,_ he thought, because Draco had just realised why Potter was looking at him like that. Oscar Wilde was gay. Draco Malfoy had been outed as gay less than a week ago. He has seen it. _Oh Merlin, he’s seen the Daily Prophet._ Draco’s brain had gone into panic mode. Harry Potter, his childhood enemy and crush, knew he was gay and had come over here to laugh at him. And the fact Draco had been reading The Picture of Dorian Gray had not helped matters. It was like Draco had been trying to achieve the world record for, “The Gayest Man on Earth.” He needed to leave. Right. Now.

Draco mumbled a quick, “Goodbye, Potter,” before leaping out of his chair, and bolting out of the library. He would not, could not stay to watch the look of disgust on Potter’s face that would appear when Draco’s sexuality was made evident. Draco knew Harry would never feel the same. He had dealt with the turmoil and heartbreak that was involved with being in love with Harry Potter, but he was beginning to accept the unrequited love, beginning to learn to live a life without Harry Potter in it. He had faced Potter’s hatred and suspicion and loathing, but Draco would not survive if he ever saw Harry look at him in repulsion. Draco may be gay, but he did not deserve to be treated like nothing.

 

“Malfoy, wait! Stop!” Draco was halfway down the stone steps when Potter’s shouts reached him. He quickened his pace, the cool summer’s breeze whipping across his face.

“Please Draco. I’m not angry about you being… gay. I just want to talk.”

“Leave me alone, Potter.” Draco tried not to let his emotions show who through his voice.

“Please, Draco.”

Draco slowed to a stop and glanced over his shoulder. Potter was standing a few feet away, shifting nervously on his feet. He ran a hand through the unruly black hair.

“I’m sorry for scaring you off. I just- I think we need to talk. About everything.” The green eyes were imploring Draco to stay. He seemed genuine. Draco’s heart clenched painfully at the sight of Potter, his shirt rippling in the wind. He sighed heavily.

“Ok, Potter,” he said reluctantly. The two trudged over to the wooden bench opposite in silence. The shadow of an oak tree provided them with shelter against the sun, and the only noises were the rustling of the leaves and the whirring of cars as they drove by. Draco closed his eyes, breathing in the smell of freshly cut grass.

“I’m sorry about the Daily Prophet article.” Draco opened his eyes and turned his head to face Potter. “It’s not right what they did.”

“It’s not your fault. I should have been more careful,” Draco replied. They stared at each other, something unknown passing between them, before Draco broke the gaze and glanced ahead.

“Draco… how did you get that bruise?” Potter asked carefully.

Draco reached up to touch the sensitive skin but swiftly pulled his hand away when a sharp pain spread across his cheek. “That is none of your concern, Potter.”

“It is my concern if someone I care-,” Potter paused. “If someone I know is getting hurt.” Draco could feel the tension rising.

“Well thank you for your concern, _Potter,_ but I am very capable of looking after myself,” Draco retorted.

“Evidently not if you’ve got that on your face. Who was it, Malfoy?” Potter demanded.

“It doesn’t matter.”

“Malfoy, would you just bloody tell me!”

“Just drop it, Potter. For Merlin’s sake!”

“No. I’m not dropping it. Who was it?”

Draco spun round to face the black-haired man. “It. Was. No. One.”

“Just tell me!”

“Fine, Potter! I’ll tell you. I was walking to the shop this morning when some stranger came up and punched me in the face. And do you wanna know why? Because I like men.” Draco laughed but there was no humour in the sound. “It’s funny, isn’t it? And it’s not even the first time. But you know what is even funnier? The fact that I’m gay means that I’m not only a “criminal” but also a “vile human being”. Fucking hilarious! I wonder if my life is yet horrendous enough to make up for all the lives my family has ruined. What do you think, Potter? Do you think I can ever make up for all the shitty things I’ve done? Or am I damned to live a life I deserve? A life of suffering and guilt and hurt.” Draco stopped abruptly when he saw the horrified look on Potter’s face. He felt tears prick behind his eyes as he leant back against the wooden bench. _I’m going insane,_ Draco thought, closing his eyes and allowing the darkness to overcome the light of the evening. How did his life end up this way? It was his own fault, he supposed. He was never brave enough to do the right thing and now he had to pay the price. A single tear fell down his cheek, but he didn’t care about Potter seeing him cry. He had lost everything, so what would it matter if he lost Potter too?

Draco heard Potter rustling in his bag, probably getting ready to leave, but he refused to open his eyes, knowing that if he did, more tears would fall. However, his eyes shot open whenever he felt warm, calloused fingers spreading a jelly-like substance on his bruised cheek. Potter was so gentle, Draco could hardly feel him rubbing the cream into his skin.

“What are you doing?” Draco croaked. He could feel Potter’s hot breath fan across his face.

“It’s Hopkins’ Bruise Paste. I always carry some since I have a tendency to knock into things.” Potter chuckled. Green eyes met grey ones, and Draco could almost feel the warmth that passed between them.

“Thank you,” Draco said softly, as Potter pulled away. He could already feel the skin begin to heal, yet he craved the warmth of those rough hands on his face again.

 

The sky around the two was alive, pinks and oranges and purples spread like paint strokes. Draco wished he could stay here, in this moment, with this boy forever.

“You never did tell me why you were in a Muggle library,” Harry stated, a smile toying at his lips. So Draco told him of the rain, and his refuge from it, and the sweet Marge, and the comforting solitude he found in the library. They talked, and laughed, and Draco realised how much he adored the sound of Potter’s roaring laugh, and how much more he adored it when he was the one causing it. Draco was enchanted with the way Harry’s dark skin glowed in the golden rays of the evening, and the way his hands moved with a gentleness that contrasted with his strong build. Most of all, Draco remembered why he had fallen in love with Harry Potter in the first place, and found more reasons to fall deeper in love with him.

When the sky had transformed to lilacs and purples, Harry turned to Draco and asked him tenderly, “How did you realise you were gay?”

At first, Draco was taken aback by the question. He searched the face for any signs of cruelty but found none, only genuine curiosity and something in the emerald eyes Draco couldn’t quite place. How was he meant to answer this question? He could lie and tell Harry that he had just always known, but he didn’t want to do that. He knew that Harry deserved to know the truth, whatever the consequences.

“You,” Draco whispered. He studied the pavement, not daring to meet Potter’s gaze.

“What?” Potter replied, after moments of agonizing silence.

“You. You made me realise I was gay.” Draco paused, gathering all the courage he had. “I’ve had a crush on you since fourth year, just took me a while to realise that I would much rather be kissing you, than hexing you.”

“But how? How did you hide it? Why didn’t you tell me?”

Draco sniggered. “You are hardly the most observant, Potter. I could have worn a sign saying, “I AM IN LOVE WITH HARRY POTTER,” and you still would have been as oblivious as always. And I didn’t tell you because you hated me.”

“I never hated you, Draco. Maybe disliked you, but I never hated you.” Draco could hear the sincerity in Potter’s voice. He was silent for a few moments. “It’s just-well, I think I might be…”

“Yes, Potter?”

“I think I might be bisexual.” The tremor in Harry’s voice had Draco spinning his head around.

“What?!” Now it was Draco’s turn to be shocked and utterly confused. This had to be a joke. But the terrified look on Potter’s face proved otherwise. “You are… bisexual?” Draco said questioningly.

Harry nodded.

“And I’m guessing from the look on your face that I’m the first person you have told?”

Harry nodded again.

“Ok. Well, I’m proud of you for coming out I suppose. Congratulations.” Draco was not the best at giving emotional support. It seemed enough, however, as Harry sighed heavily in relief, as if a huge weight had been lifted off his shoulders. It was a stark reminder to Draco of his own reaction when he told Pansy in sixth year.

“Thank you, Draco. It means a lot,” Potter said, his voice filled with gratitude. Draco gave him a small smile in return. The two sat in a comfortable silence, words seeming unnecessary and inadequate for the emotions they were feeling.

“Wait…” Draco arched his eyebrow at Harry, waiting for him to finish.

“You said you were in love with me. When you were talking about the crush. Do you… Are you in love with me?” Potter exclaimed. _Oh shit_. He did not mean to say that. At all. This was not good. He had only meant to tell Harry about the crush, not the fact he was head over heels in love with him.

“Fuck, I don’t- I can’t. Shit.” Draco didn’t know what to say. He couldn’t exactly deny it.

“Are you?” Potter persisted.

“Yes! Ok? I’m completely in love with you. Are you happy now? Do you know how hard it is to pretend I hate you? That I don’t care about you? It is one of the hardest things I have ever had to do. And I’m sorry. I’m sorry for ruining everything. ” Draco swallowed and breathed out heavily. “Sometimes the pain of watching you hate me was worse than any Crucio.” Draco’s voice was soft. He had lost everything. Even the joyful tune of the birds did little to console his aching heart. He had never felt so alone.

He had lost _everything_.

Potter’s face turned serious and he inched his body closer to Draco’s crouched form.

“Like I said before, I never hated you Draco. But how do you know I wasn’t pretending too?”

Draco’s heart lurched. _What?_ A flutter of hope rippled across his chest.

“You see, for the past few years, I’ve been convincing myself that my obsession with you was just suspicion. That I thought you were up to something.” Harry’s voice was less than a whisper. “Until last year, when you obviously were not doing anything _evil_ , and yet I still had a strong urge to be near you all the time. It seems we were both hiding the same thing.”  

Draco stopped breathing. Harry’s face was inches from his own, and those green eyes were staring at his lips. This can’t be real, Draco thought as he gradually brought his face closer and closer to Harry’s own, until their noses were touching.

“I love you,” Harry murmured, before slamming their lips together.

Draco raked his hands through Harry’s inky black curls, the way he had wanted to since he was fifteen. Potter’s lips were soft and hot, sending shivers down Draco’s spine while Harry gripped his hips, pulling their bodies against each other. Although the sun was setting, Draco felt as if the sun inside his chest was beaming brighter than ever before, casting away the shadows inside his heart. _Finally,_ Draco thought as his tongue searched Potter’s mouth. _Finally_ , Draco thought as Harry pulled away, trailing kisses down his neck. _Finally_ , Draco thought as he rested his head on Harry’s shoulder and felt as if he had found his way home.

 

Draco looked up at the stars, the constellations vivid in the clear night. His long legs were draped across Harry’s and his head tucked under Harry’s own.

“I’ve always wanted to learn the constellations,” Harry said, breaking the silence. He was looking at the stars in awe, but when he turned to face Draco his expression didn’t change.

“I could teach you, if you like.”

Harry grinned. “Really? I would love that.”

“Come to my place tomorrow at eight. Although we will have to go somewhere where there is less light pollution, if you really wanna see the constellations. Maybe we could get dinner after,” Draco suggested. He smirked as a flush spread up Harry’s cheeks.

“Yeah, I’d love to. I mean, yeah, sounds good.” Draco sniggered at how flustered Harry seemed at even the mention of a date.

Draco lifted himself up, stretching his tired muscles. “I suppose I better be on my way. A man needs his beauty sleep after all.”

Harry swiftly got on his feet, and pulled Draco into a sweet, but deep kiss. “See you tomorrow. I love you” he whispered into the blonde’s ear. Before Draco had even responded, Harry had Apparated away.

“Cocky bastard,” Draco muttered, touching his lips. He Apparated into his own living room, the warm air closing around his body and a smile still plastered on his face.

 

As Draco’s mind whirred with thoughts that night in bed, unable to sleep, he knew with a shocking certainty that he had found a home in Harry Potter. Not long before, he had felt he belonged nowhere, his life destined to be one of isolation and solitude. But as he closed his eyes, finally drifting off, he realised he had more than one place to call home; his cosy flat, Pansy, his mother, the Muggle library and, most recently, in the arms of Harry Potter. And he would never let anyone take these away from him, not even a stupid, magical newspaper.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for taking the time to read this. It means the world! I hope you enjoyed it xx


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